


I Feel the Streets Are All Pulling Me Down

by chocobee



Series: Whumptober 2018 [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood Loss, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Poor Prompto Argentum, Stabbing, Whump, Whumptober 2018
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-13
Updated: 2018-10-13
Packaged: 2019-07-24 18:48:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16181030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chocobee/pseuds/chocobee
Summary: Prompto reaches to prod at his stomach; he gasps at the pain that blooms from the touch, and when he pulls away his hand it comes back sticky with blood. He swallows thickly.He just has to make it back to the room. He can do that.Day 1: Stabbed





	I Feel the Streets Are All Pulling Me Down

**Author's Note:**

> So! I'm attempting [Whumptober.](https://la-vie-en-whump.tumblr.com/post/177963734617/october-approaches-in-celebration-of-our-cozy) Obviously I'm already super late and there's just no way I'll be able to get these out on time, but I'll try my best to get them out regardless. Unfortunately, school is currently taking up majority of my time, so I'll just do what I can to get these out as often as possible. If any of you are waiting on updates to Tender Hearts, I'm putting that on the back-burner for now (after only two chapters, I know, sorry) to focus on this and one other fic I'm hoping to get out before October ends. But I will definitely be updating that fic as soon as I can.
> 
> This kind of got away from me and I'm not the proudest of the ending, but it's already really late and I just wanted to get it out because I was getting tired of it. I have some stuff planned out for other prompts, so hopefully I'll get some time and can just crank out a bunch of them.
> 
> The title is from "My Number" by Foals.

The sun had gone down a decent while ago by the time Ignis pulls the car into an empty parking space outside a dingy motel.

_“Finally,”_ Prompto groans, hopping out to stretch as soon as the car’s off, feeling more antsy than usual. Gladio’s still in the backseat, rousing Noct, while Ignis heads inside to see about getting a room.

By the time he returns, keys jingling in hand, Noct is groggily leaning against the side of car with his arms crossed, looking seconds away from nodding off again. Wordlessly, they grab their respective bags and follow Ignis towards their room after he makes sure the Regalia is locked. Noct collapses on the nearest bed, eager to get back to sleep, while Gladio heads into the bathroom and Ignis rifles through his bag.

Prompto busies himself with finding an outlet to plug his phone into. It’s a short, simple task, and when he’s done he rocks on the balls of his feet, thinking. His anxiety had been that much worse today, and doubled with spending the last few hours restless in the Regalia, the last thing he wants right now is to be cramped up in a tiny room like this. Better than the tent, but still. “I think I’m gonna go for a walk,” he announces.

Ignis looks up from his bag and raises an eyebrow. “It’s late,” he says.

“I’ll be fine, dude. Won't stay out too late, promise,” Prompto replies, holding out his hand, pinky out, as a pinky-promise. Ignis sighs, shakes his head, but links their pinkies together all the same, if only to entertain Prompto. “Don't wait up for me, ‘kay?” he says, and when Ignis waves him off, he heads out into the night.

The air is a little warm, but nice - not heavy or humid like it had been in the morning. It’s much better than the stuffiness inside the motel room, and Prompto takes a deep breath as a gentle breeze ruffles his hair.

He picks a direction and walks. The town isn’t huge, but it’s not exactly tiny, either. There’s a few others out and about, but most are likely headed home for the evening, if not there already. For once, Prompto doesn’t bother with his camera - it’s pretty dark, anyway - content to let his mind wander the same as his body.

Eventually, he figures he should probably be getting back - Ignis would be waiting up for him, no doubt, even if he was exhausted from driving all day. Gladio might be up as well, to keep Iggy company. The last thing he wants to do is take away more of their sleep, precious as it is these days. He turns into an alley he thinks could probably be a shortcut, deep in thought.

It all happens too quickly. He hears a sharp whistle behind him, and as soon as he turns, a blinding pain erupts in his stomach. He sort of just crumples to the ground, pushed onto his back by the person now looming over him. They pat down his pockets while he just stares up at them in shock, trying to process everything. Perhaps they hadn’t found what they were looking for, because they give an annoyed little grunt and kick Prompto’s side when they stand.

All it does is bring on more pain, and Prompto gasps wetly, curling in on himself to shield his stomach should the person decide to get a few more blows in. They don't, and he barely hears the sound of their retreating footsteps echoing down the alley over the blood rushing in his ears.

The only thing of value he’d had on him is some spare gil, he thinks, which is probably why whoever had just mugged him was annoyed. It wasn’t much, but it seems they’re always tight on funds these days. Even a loss as small as pocket change will likely have an impact. He remembers leaving his phone in the room to charge. He won't be able to call for help, but if it had been stolen he wouldn't really have been able to call for help either.

Prompto reaches to prod at his stomach; he gasps at the pain that blooms from the touch, and when he pulls away his hand it comes back sticky with blood. He swallows thickly. Mugged _and_ stabbed, then. As much as it hurts, he forces himself to press his hand back against the wound with a quiet cry, trying to keep in as much blood as possible. There’s no potions or elixirs in the Armiger - they’d used their last few during a hunt this afternoon, and had been planning on restocking tomorrow morning. He’d just have to do without, then.

He takes a shallow, wheezing breath. He just has to make it back to the room. He can do that.

By the time he merely sits up, he’s already breathing hard through the pain. He can’t imagine standing, but he also doesn’t want to imagine dying here, so he gives himself no more than thirty seconds of rest before he grabs the edge of a dumpster to pull himself up. His hands are slick with blood, so his grip slips and he goes right back down, barely managing to catch himself, but it _hurts._ He tries to give himself another thirty seconds, but the pain is just too much, and he’s not sure how long he sits there, panting.

After everything they’ve survived - everything _he’s_ survived - he refuses to go out like this: bleeding out in some creepy alley after being mugged for a measly amount of gil. So he wipes some of the blood from his hands onto his jeans, making a mental note to help Ignis with the laundry later, and grabs the dumpster once more.

This time he makes it, leaning heavily against the dumpster and trying to catch his breath. His legs feel like jelly and he almost goes down again when he takes a step, barely catching himself on the graffiti-splattered brick wall. He takes a few shuffling steps towards the mouth of the alley, one hand pressed to his stomach and the other on the wall. The thought of collapsing again and resetting so much progress has his veins pumping with adrenaline.

Shit, why hadn't he been paying more attention? If he’d heard the guy coming, he could’ve easily summoned his gun and scared him off before anything could happen. Prompto shakes his head, trying to refocus himself, then bites his lip against the wave of nausea and dizziness the action brings. There’s nothing to be changed - he’s here, he’s bleeding out, and he has to make it back to the motel.

When he makes it through to the other end of the alley, he’s a little disheartened to see the streets completely devoid of people now. A lone street lamp flickers above him. He takes a shuddering breath and begins to limp in what he hopes is the right direction.

The adrenaline’s masking some of the pain, at least, but it still hurts. He’s on high alert; every little noise has him tensing up, half expecting the mugger to appear to finish the job. His fingers twitch, itching to feel the familiar weight of his gun in his hand to relieve some of his anxiety. He needs the hand free to support himself on the walls of buildings he passes, though, so he settles for being as ready as he can to summon it and defend himself if the need arises.

It’s getting a little hard to focus, trying to keep one foot in front of the other while in turn trying to stay aware of his surroundings and remember the right way back. The toe of his boot catches on a piece of uneven sidewalk and he gasps, barely managing to keep from falling. He takes a moment to recover from the scare, then presses on, trying to pay more attention to where he’s walking.

He almost sobs in relief when the motel comes into view. Everything hurts. He’s cold. He’s tired. But he’s also almost there. Seeing his goal and thinking of his friends gives him another burst of adrenaline as he shuffles past where the Regalia is parked.

When he finally, _finally_ makes it to the right door, he slumps heavily against the doorframe, breathing hard and fast. He’s shaking so badly that he doesn’t bother trying to fumble with his key, instead weakly pounding a fist against the door and hoping someone’s awake to hear it.

Then his anxiety is coming back full force, because what if they’re all sleeping and don’t hear him? What if Ignis hadn’t waited up like he thought he would? Iggy’s a light sleeper, and Gladio, too, so surely someone would hear him, right?

His hand travels to his pocket, searching for his key just in case, though he doubts he could steady his hands enough to get the door open. His heart plummets when he comes up empty-handed - had he forgotten it in the room? Or had it been stolen along with his money? He knocks on the door again, a bit more frantically. Had he really made it all the way back just to bleed out right outside-

The door suddenly opens and he almost falls. Ignis is standing there, frowning and looking more tired than Prompto’s seen him look in a while. “Prompto?” he asks, sounding confused and concerned.

Prompto wants to say something - apologize, maybe, for keeping Ignis up, or for losing some of their money, or for all the blood he’s dripping everywhere - but all he does is pitch forward, barely registering arms wrapping around him and a surprised shout before everything fades out.

 

* * *

  

Prompto’s not really sure where he is when he wakes up. His brain is fuzzy, and he distantly feels a little like he’s floating - which is weird, because last he checked, people can't float.

Amid the floating sensation, he’s also got a weird little voice in the back of his head nagging him that he’s forgetting something, and that something is life-threateningly important.

It slowly comes back to him: the shortcut through the alley, the sharp pain in his side, the blood-

He tries to claw his way to wakefulness, desperately tries to stop floating and make it back to the ground, because he can't be resting right now. He has to make it back to the motel room, or he’s going to die. Maybe he’s already dying.

When he manages to pry his eyes open, however, he’s met with a blank ceiling, not the dark alleyway he’d been expecting. Blearily, he scans the room, and he realizes he’s in a hospital of sorts.

“Prompto?” someone says softly. With great effort, Prompto turns his head to the side. Noct is sitting next to the bed, leaning towards him. “Hey, how are you feeling?” he asks.

Unfocused eyes stare at Noct, then slowly travel to where Ignis is sitting in another chair, to where Gladio is standing like a sentry near the door, then back to Noct. Prompto’s mouth feels like it's been stuffed with cotton, but he manages a quiet, slurred, “I made it?”

Noct looks a little surprised, then gives Prompto a strained smile. “Yeah, buddy, you made it. Get some more rest, okay?”

“‘Kay,” Prompto says, eyes already slipping shut again. The last thing he’s aware of is a warm hand gripping his.

He feels infinitely more grounded the next time he wakes up. He’s still a little tired and groggy, but he can at least focus better now. He blinks his eyes open and is met with the same white ceiling. Everyone is still in the same spot as before, and Prompto wonders just how long he’s been out.

Noct’s playing on his phone now, but as soon as he glances up and sees Prompto awake he clicks the button on the side and puts the device to sleep. “Hey,” he says.

“Hi,” Prompto croaks tiredly.

“Here,” Ignis says, grabbing a styrofoam cup with a bendy straw poking out of the lid from somewhere on Prompto’s right. They raise the bed up a little bit for him, and Ignis hands him the cup. He sips through the straw greedily, cool water soothing his dry throat. Ignis is still there to take it when he’s finished.

Prompto clears his throat and says, “Thanks, Iggy.” He gives Ignis a tired smile.

“You're welcome.” Ignis gives him a small, relieved smile in return. He reaches to press the nurse’s call button, explaining, “They told us to call when you woke up.”

Prompto nods, slouching back against his pillow. And then, the question he’s been waiting for: “So, what happened last night?”

It’s Noct who asks, and then all eyes are on Prompto, waiting for an answer.

“Uh,” he says, shifting a little, uncomfortable under their gazes. “I should’ve been paying more attention. I was on my way back and someone jumped me.” He toys with his wristband anxiously. “He, uh, stabbed first and asked questions later.”

“Did you see his face?” Gladio asks, arms crossed. He looks angry.

“Uh, no,” Prompto answers. “It was dark, and it all happened really fast, I just- he took whatever gil I had on me, I’m sorry. It wasn’t a lot, but…” he trails off, staring down at the scratchy hospital blankets.

“You really think _that’s_ what we’re worried about?” Noct asks incredulously.

“Um,” Prompto mumbles intelligently, risking a glance up to meet Noct’s intense state, “yes? I mean, money’s tight as it is, and I should’ve been paying more attention-”

“You idiot,” Noct cuts him off, and Prompto frowns, but then Noct’s carefully climbing onto the bed and pulling him into a hug. “Some pocket change is replaceable, _you’re_ not.”

“Oh,” Prompto says.

“Yeah, so don’t do that again, please,” Noct says. Prompto feels the bed dip, and then Ignis’ slender fingers are running through his hair and Gladio’s hand is stroking his back.

“Sorry,” he mumbles into Noct’s shoulder. He’s not sure when he’d started shaking.

“It’s alright,” Ignis murmurs.

Prompto breathes out a sigh, feeling warm and safe and loved in his friends’ arms, and suddenly everything is okay.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed! Comments and kudos are always appreciated!
> 
> Find me on [tumblr](http://k-ovic.tumblr.com/) and [twitter.](https://twitter.com/choco_bee_) Follow for updates, and DMs are always open, so feel free to chat :)


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